Fallout: The Days of Aesil
by J.R. Vegas
Summary: CHAPTER FOUR UP! When Aesil, courier in the Mojave Wasteland, is shot and left for dead, he finds himself somehow alive in Goodsprings thanks to the robot Victor, and thus begins an adventure throughout the Mojave Wasteland - one of vengeance, love, and war.
1. Prologue: Rigged from the Start

I felt the blindfold around my eyes as I was pushed forward by a pair of strong arms, gruff voices panting and grunting as they made their way up what I figured to be a hill. My feet dragged along that ground, as I was still in a state of confused delirium. Gruff voices filled my ears. One to my left said, "You got what you were after, so pay up."

Another remarked, in a similar fashion, "You're crying in the rain, pally." Eventually, I felt the ground level out from its previous sloping structure, and I felt a wooden structure press hard against my gut. I was shoved over it, and I went airborne very briefly before I slammed into the ground, rolling amongst the dirt and rocks. I struggled to sit up, despite the fact my hands were bound. I was forced into a sitting position by one of my mysterious assailants, and I felt hands untie the blindfold from my head. My vision returned in a slightly blinding fashion as the blindfold was removed from me. Two men in leather armor stood near a man in a checkered suit. The latter of the group had slick hair, and had a golden pistol holstered on his hip. Behind him, I could see the lights of New Vegas as they shone in the deep night.

The checker-suited man knelt before me, looking into my eyes. His were black and piercing, as if they could bore into my soul itself. He lifted a cigarette to his lips, and puffed deeply. He breathed smoke into my face, and my eyes watered as I resisted the urge to cough. "Time to cash out," he said.  
One of them looked irritatedly at Benny, and said, "Would you get it over with?"

"Yeah? Well, maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" He shook his head at the Khan, and reached into his suit pocket. He pulled out a casino chip-esque item, and flashed it in front of me. The Platinum Chip. "You've made your last delivery, kid." He put the Chip away, and then drew his pistol. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene. From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. But the truth is..." Benny pulled the slide back on the pistol, and aimed it at my head. "...the game was rigged from the start." He pulled the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot filled my ears as a sharp pain rang through me, and then my vision left me to blackness and silence.


	2. Chapter 1: Tell Me Quick

I awoke, consciousness coming back to me. A voice entered my conscience, saying, "You're awake, how about that?" I don't know how I was alive, but...I tried to sit up, and a presence reached out to help me up, gently. "Whoa, easy there, easy. You been out cold a couple of days now." As my vision focused, I saw a man who was very nearly bald, had a white, prim mustache, and had gentle eyes. He had on what looked like a farm hand's outfit, with a red shirt underneath the coveralls. "Why don't you relax a second? Get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is." He scrutinized me. "How about your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"Aesil."

The man faintly raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Can't say it's what I'd have picked for you. But if that's your name, that's your name. I'm Doc Mitchell; welcome to Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out." Right. I remembered that shot the checker-suit man had inflicted upon me, but nothing before that. "I take pride in my needlework, but you'd better tell me if I left anything out of place." He reached down beside the stool he sat on, and picked up a mirror. He handed it over to me, and said, "How'd I do?"

I looked in the mirror, and inspected my face. My mustache was black, like my hair, yet faint. My hair was straight, with a slight right alignment of my bangs; said bangs reached halfway down to my eyebrows. My eyes were green, and my skin pale white. My nose wasn't very prominent, and my facial hair, besides my mustache, consisted of thin chops on each side of my face. "I'd say I'm still in one piece."

He shrugged, and made to stand. "Well, I got most of it right, anyway." Stuff that mattered. Okay. No sense keeping you in bed anymore." He reached out, and grasped my wrist gently. He reached out with his other arm, and gripped my shoulder, helping me stand. "Let's see if we can get you on your feet." Upon standing, my vision tunneled briefly, and Mitchell helped me stay upright as I resisted the urge to let my legs give out. Upon seeing I was fine, he nodded. "Good. Why don't you walk down to the end of the room," he said, gesturing towards a machine on the other side. "Over by that vigor tester machine there. Take it slow, now; it ain't a race." He turned away and made his way over to the machine, and I followed, walking slowly as to prevent a relapse of the tunnel vision and subsequent weakness I felt earlier when I stood up. When I reached the machine, he nodded again. "Looking good so far. Go ahead and give the vigor tester a try. We'll learn right quick if you got back all your faculties."

I raised an eyebrow at the way he worded it, but I didn't really bother pointing that out. Instead of questioning him, I readied myself to use the vigor machine. It had a joystick with two buttons on each side, and on the front of the machine had several rotating slats, geared towards measuring seven traits. I assumed it was for measuring physical qualities as well as mental and psychological qualities. I began, and my Strength was rated 8, my Perception 5, my Endurance 6, my Charisma 4, my Intelligence 6, my Agility 7, and my Luck 5. When I finished, Mitchell looked me over. A gleam built in his eye as he said, "Surprised anybody'd want to tangle with you. Heck, you could go deathclaw hunting with a switch. Well, we know your vitals are good. But that don't mean them bullets didn't leave you nuttier than a Bighorner dropping. What do you say you take a seat on my couch and we go through a couple questions? See if your dogs are still barking."

He gestured for me to follow him, and we went into a living room. I sat down on the couch, and Mitchell in an armchair near a music stand. "Alright, Doc, I'm ready," I said.

"Good, good," Mitchell responded. "Alright, we'll begin. I'm gonna say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind. Dog."

"Feed."

"House."

"Target."

"Night."

"Shroud."

"Bandit."

"Swiss cheese."

"Light."

"Dark."

"Mother."

"Caretaker."

Mitchell nodded, confirming his acceptance. "Okay, now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they'd sound like something you'd say. Conflict just ain't in my nature."

"Strongly disagree."

"I ain't given to relying on others for support."

"Strongly agree."

"I'm always fixing to be the center of attention."

"Strongly disagree."

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

"Oh, you are? I'm just joking; I strongly disagree."

Doc Mitchell shook his head, and went on. "I charge in to deal with my problems head-on."

"Disagree."

He smiled, and pulled out a Pre-War manila folder. "Alright, we're almost done here. What do you say we have a look at this? Tell me what you see." He drew out three pictures, and set two on his lap. He placed one of them on the stand. I looked at it, and said, "A shadow in a doorframe."

"Alright then, how about this one?"

"I see a priceless work of art."

"And this one?"

"A head on a pillow."

"Well, that's all she wrote. I don't have nothing to compare it to, so you'd better just have a look at the results. See if it all seems right to you." He handed me some papers, and I looked them over. I was satisfied, and handed him the results. "Alright then, I got a form for you to fill out, so I can get a sense of your medical history. Just a formality; ain't like you got a family history of getting shot in the head." He passed me another paper, and I swore that in that last quip he made was a vengeful bite-back for my earlier snark. Regardless, I set to filling it out, and soon, I passed it back to him. "All right, I guess that about does it. Come with me; I'll see you out." He stood up from his chair, and made his way to a hallway. I followed him to a door, and he turned to me once we were there. "Here," he said, "these are yours. Was all you had on you when you was brought in." He handed me a package delivery note, some stimpaks – four to be exact, a few bobby pins, a pistol, and some rounds for it. Also included were 18 bottlecaps, the currency around the wasteland. He continued on, "I hope you don't mind, but I gave the note a look. I thought it help me find a next of kin. But it was just something about a platinum chip." He handed me a strange object. and I cradled it. It sucked away my items in a flash of green light.

"Well," he said, "if you're heading back out there, you ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy; I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing after what you been through. I know what it's like, having something taken from you." He handed me a Vault jumpsuit. "And put this on, too, so the locals don't mock you for lacking modesty. Never was my style, anyway." I pulled the jumpsuit on, and attached the Pip-Boy glove to my wrist.

"Thanks for patching me up, Doc. What do I do now?"

"You should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She'll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too; and that metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave." He grinned. "Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore." We both laughed a little at this, despite its grim implications. When we got our breath back, I grinned at Mitchell.

"I guess I'll be on my way now, Doc."

"You take care, Aesil. You take care."

"Thanks, Doc." I shook his hand, and walked towards the door. I opened it, and the light from the outside flooded in.


	3. Chapter 2: Stormy Weather

As I shut the door to Doc Mitchell's house as I exited, I saw Goodsprings for the first time. It seemed to be a rather small hamlet of a town, and the first thing I saw was a robot rolling by a rusted, abandoned truck, heading towards a pair of average-sized buildings. Power poles – four of them that I could see – stretched along the buildings. I looked to my left a little and saw a water tower atop a hill – the very hill where I was shot, I assumed. Gathering my bearings, I shook my head clear, and stepped away from Doc Mitchell's house, onto the road the robot rolled on. Mitchell had told me to go to the saloon to see Sunny Smiles, so I would do just that. I passed a bent STOP sign as I approached a building that had lights that just barely flashed. The Prospector Saloon. This was the place the Doc was talking about. Nevertheless, I walked towards the front door past some motorcycles, and stepped inside.

At once, I heard a dog bark at me, and a woman in leather armor with a rifle on her back approached. "Cheyenne, stay. Don't worry, she won't bite unless I tell her to." This must be Sunny Smiles. She had hair that was a little red, but that was really all that stood out about her. I knew this was who I had to talk to at once.

"Doc Mitchell said...ah...you could teach me to survive in the desert."

She nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, I guess there's a thing or two I could show you. Sounds like you need all the help you can get after what they done to you. Meet me outside, behind the saloon." She walked past me, and I followed, heading into a room with a long table, with no bartender behind it. A lone man with a hat on sat on the farthest stool, watching the wall dejectedly. We stepped outside, and I walked next to her. We stopped at a fence opposite from the back side of the casino, and she handled me a rifle, saying, "Now, see the sarsaparilla bottles on the fence there? Take this, and try to shoot a couple of them." I took the rifle off my back and took aim. The rifle felt smooth in my hands, yet it shook a little; I hadn't really used a gun prior to this. I fired at a bottle, and narrowly missed. Two shots later, I finally knocked two bottles down. "That's the idea," she said, "look down the sight. Try crouching down and staying still, it'll help your aim." Another shot, another bottle. "Nice shot. But, I didn't come to teach you how to fight bottles. Tell you what, I gotta go chase some geckos away from our water supply anyway. Darn critters are attracted to it. Why don't you come along?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Sounds good to me. I'm in."

She grinned. "Follow me, it's just down to the southeast a short ways."

And so we made our way towards the water supply, making our way over the dusty, broken ground, past the saloon, and down the road. We made our way over some rocks, and soon, we were crouched behind a rocky wall. "Hear that on the ridge behind me there? We got some geckos to clear out. Bunch of little monsters are what they are; Doc Mitchell says he treats more gecko bits than anything else." She looked over at the geckos, and she said, "Alright, they're all yours. Go give 'em hell."  
I slipped out past her, still crouching. I sighted in on one of the geckos, an ugly creature that was purplish, yet had to be no taller than knee-height. I realized I was too far away for there to be an accurate shot, so I crept near a water tanker. I looked over and saw a gecko traipsing about. I sighted in on it, and fired. It stumbled, hit, and I fired again, dropping it dead. The other gecko had not noticed me, so I moved up some, readying my rifle for more firing. Suddenly, the gecko began to rush at me, mouth open and gills expanded. I fired twice, dropping it at well. I walked back around the ridge. "It's done," I said.

Sunny nodded warmly at me. "See? You're getting the hang of it. There's still a few wells left, if you want, you can come along to help me clear them out. It'd be worth a few caps to me."

Already, I was worn out of geckos and the like. "I've had enough of those...things...for one day."

She sighed. "I don't blame you. Good eating, but that's about it. I'm heading back now; hope I didn't miss anything good on the jukebox. Cheyenne would never forgive me." She turned to go back, then looked back at me. "Hey, do me a favor. Trudy – bartender, kind of like the town mom – she likes to meet newcomers. She'd be cross with me if I didn't ask you to poke your head in and say hi." She began to walk back to town, and my head spun with all that had happened today. Regardless, I began to go back to the Prospector Saloon, passing Sunny and Cheyenne as I did so. I re-entered the saloon, and saw a woman in a white dress arguing with a man with Kevlar guard armor on.

The man was talking as I walked up, and he was saying, "I'm done being nice. If you don't bring Ringo to me, I'll get my friends and we'll burn the town to the ground."

She responded, "I'll keep that in mind; now get out."

The man ran off, and as he passed me, he caught me looking at him, and before he went on, said, "What the hell is your problem?" I resisted the urge to go after him and slug him, but I restrained myself and walked up to the bar.

"Well, you've been causing quite a stir," the woman – Trudy – said. "I hear you're getting popular in town. Welcome to the Goodsprings Saloon."

"I happened to overhear your argument. What was that all about?" I asked, curious.

"It looks like our little town got itself dragged into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with. About a week ago, this trader – Ringo – comes into town. Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men after him, needs a place to hide. We figured he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low. Didn't actually expect anyone to come after him."

"Where is he now?"

"He's holed up at the abandoned gas station up the hill."

"What are you going to do, I wonder?"

"Some of the others, like Sunny, are going to stand up for Ringo if he asks for help, which he hasn't. Personally, I hope he sneaks out of town in the middle of the night and takes the Powder Gangers with him." So this guy she was arguing with was a Powder Ganger, it would seem.

"Powder Gangers?"

"Chain gangs, really. The NCR brought them in from California to work on the rail lines. Problem is, it turns out giving a bunch of convicts dynamite and blasting powder isn't really a good idea. Was a big escape a long time ago; some of 'em stuck together so they could make trouble. That's what we're dealing with now."

"Well, it's been interesting talking with you, but I have to go now; I'm going to talk to Ringo and see what I can do."

"You take care now," she said as I left the saloon. I looked around for a gas station, and saw one to the right of where Doc Mitchell's house was. I walked up the hill towards it, passing that robot on the way, and opened the door, stepping inside. I was met at once with a gun pointed at me, with a man's agitated, frightened face looking at me.

"That's close enough," he said. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

"I'm not an enemy, if that's what you're asking," I said.

He put the gun away. "Sorry about the gun," he said, "you just caught me off guard, that's all."

"It's fine, really. I would've done the same thing."

He shrugged. "We got off to a bad start. What say we start over with a friendly game of Caravan? You know how to play?"

"I don't, and I'll have to decline, sorry. Also, there's a man named Joe Cobb after you, know anything about him?"

"Yeah. He doesn't look very tough, though. I hear he's afraid of me shooting him through a window, and he may just be right. The real problem lies with his gang, that'll be a problem in a gunfight."

"Uh...what are you going to do about the Powder Gangers?"

"I'm going to lay low as long as I can, assuming the town doesn't throw me to the wolves. I've got no chance on my own."

"Hmmm...Maybe I can help."

"We'd just end up sharing the same grave if it were just the two of us. Now...if we had other people in town helping us..."

"I'll ask around and see who I can round up, alright?"

"Start with Sunny Smiles," he advised. "She's been the friendliest around here."

"Will do," I said. "I'll come back when I have everyone I can ready."

"I hope we can make it," he said.

I turned after waving farewell, and exited the gas station. I walked back towards the saloon, when I got an idea. I needed to talk to my savior, the robot. I looked to my right and saw him near some Bighorners at a small shack. I made my way over to him.

"Howdy, pardner," he said when I got close enough. "Might I say, you're looking fit as a fiddle."

"Thanks for digging me out of that grave," I said.

"Don't mention it! I'm always willing to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need."

"How did you happen to find me?"

"I was out for a stroll that night when I heard some commotion at the old bone orchard. I saw they were a few bad eggs, so I laid low. After it was over, I headed up there and saw you out cold; so I dug you up and got you to the Doc right quick."

"Do you know who those men were who attacked me?"

"Can't say that I'm familiar with the rascals. Some of the fine folks in town might be able to help."

"Thank you for this...what's your name, may I ask?"

"Victor. And like I said, I'm always willing to help a stranger in need."

"Goodbye, Victor. It's been a pleasure."

"Happy trails!" I walked away, once more making my way to the saloon. I looked around for Sunny Smiles, and there she was, standing near a stool with Cheyenne, seeming to contemplate life. I went up to her.

"Hi there," she said, "thinking about sticking around Goodsprings a little longer?"

"Nah," I said. "But, listen, I'm going to help Ringo take on the Powder Gangers. I might need your help."

"Say no more; I'm in."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. I have a feeling that I'm going to end up fighting these guys one way or another., so I may as well. But, between us and Ringo, we're not a formidable force. We're going to need more people, so..."

"I'll ask around and see what I can do."

"I'll be waiting."

I went up to Trudy, and said, "I need some help going after the Powder Gangers. Near the saloon and store are good spots to stage an ambush against them – if I had the help, that is."

"That does sound like a good plan," she said, musing it over. "Alright, you seem to know what you're doing, so you can count me in. I'll round up some more people to form a militia."

"Thank you, and goodbye."

She said nothing as I left, going to Mitchell's house. I was sure he would help us. I walked into his kitchen, and I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at me, and turned, grinning warmly. "Oh, I didn't

expect to see you again so soon! What can I do for you?"

"Doc, I'm going to tell you right now that this town is going to be attacked by bandits. Anything you can do to help?"

"Seems like wherever I go, it's the same," he sighed. "Folks just don't leave each other alone. I'll give you what I can spare, though."

"Thanks, but they'll be using explosives as well," I said as my Pip-Boy zapped away the stimpaks. "Do you have something for more serious injuries?"

"I ain't got much, but it'll do you more good out there than it will in here. Take what I got." Two doctor's bags went into my Pip-Boy's storage.

"Thank you, Doc. These'll be really useful in the moments to come."

"You take care, now," he said as I walked away, out of his house and back into the Mojave. I failed to rally up any more help, so I went straight back to Ringo.

"So what's going on?" he asked. "Did Sunny agree to help us?"

"She's with us."

"Well, I guess that means we're ready to go. Unless...there's something else you need to do."

"Let's do this," I said firmly.

"All right, I'm ready...I hope."

Sunny stepped in. "Look alive, the Powder Gangers are here to play."

"How many are there?" I asked.

"At least six, Joe Cobb included. They seem pretty mean."

"Well, let's go."

"I'll be set up near the store. Let's hope the gang doesn't make it that far." With that, the three of us stormed outside into the blustery Mojave air, ready to fight Joe Cobb and the Powder Gangers.


	4. Chapter 3: You Saw Me Standing Alone

Note from J.R.'s Desk: From here on out, I'm going to use unique dialogue for each character rather than going with lines directly from New Vegas itself to spice up the story a little and give it a better feel.

-

The blazing sun was high overhead as Sunny, Ringo and I ran towards the saloon. I could see forms in the distance, Joe Cobb among them. He had a .357 magnum revolver in hand, and he looked furious and ready to kill anyone who stood in his way. I pulled out the rifle I received from Sunny not long before, checking to see that it was loaded. Already, townspeople were trading fire with the Powder Gangers, bullets flying and whizzing about. I rolled behind a crate and poked out from behind it a second later. I affixed the sights on Joe Cobb's head and fired. It missed, and he sneered and fired twice at me in response. I ducked back behind the crate, panting. I dove out again, firing at his leg, kneecapping him and sending him to one knee. He fired, and a bullet tore into a townsman, sending him backwards as an ugly hole on the right of his chest showed itself. I knew he would be dead soon, and I again fired at Cobb, this time hitting him in the arm he wasn't using for the revolver. He cried out in pain, and fired again, missing completely. Ringo raised the pistol and fired at him, hitting him between the eyes and dropping him dead. The rest of the Powder Gangers had short work made of them by the townsfolk, and soon, the battle for Goodsprings was over – it had been won in the town's favor.

"Thank you so much, Aesil. Listen, I know these are Caravan funds, but..." He passed me a small bag containing 100 caps, which I used my Pip-Boy to store. "I reckon I'll stay in town a few more days, and then I'll head north to the Crimson Caravan Company."

"It's no issue, Ringo. He had what was coming to him, so it's alright."

"Thank you again, man! You have no clue how much more relaxed this makes me, knowing he's not after me anymore." He strode off to celebrate with the townspeople, Trudy among them.

Sunny looked at me, and said, "Where you going to go now, Aesil?"

"I'm thinking about heading to that town over there," I said, pointing at a town nearby. It had a large rollercoaster around a large building, and an overpass seperated two sides of the town.

"Primm, huh? I think that'd be a good place to go from here. You take care, Aesil."

"And you and all of Goodsprings take care," I replied in kind. I slung the rifle I had over my shoulder, and strode off to the road, ready to walk that road that would lead me to Primm. My feet thumped against the centuries-old pavement as I made my way onward, sun beating down brutally upon my face. The many browns and grays of the Mojave were a usual thing now, ever since the War.I looked to the cloudy sky as I passed by a large rock on the side of the road, wondering just what lay ahead of me. Eventually, I came to an old road sign, that said Jean was straight ahead, Primm was to my right, and Vegas to my left. I said I was going to Primm, so to Primm I would go.

As I turned right to continue down the road, I heard the cracks of gunfire nearby. I looked over and saw Powder Gangers. "Are you kidding me?! More of them?" I dove behind some rocks, and I hefted my rifle off of my shoulder. I put it on a rock for balance, and shot a Powder Ganger between the eyes, sending him sprawled backwards. I fired again, tearing a hole in a ganger's chest. Another one and he went down like a bag of rocks. Now, there was only one left. I fired again, but took a shot to the shoulder. I cried out in pain as I fired one last time, killing the last man. I grasped the oozing hole in my shoulder, looking it over. "Argh...dammit, that hurts..." I made my way over to the corpses, and I grasped one of the Powder Gangers' uniforms. I ripped off a strip of cloth that was large enough to bandage the wound, and I got out a stimpak. I injected it into my shoulder near the wound site, and worked on bandaging it carefully, making sure that it was completely covered. "Okay, that's better. Much, much better." I vaulted the rocks and reloaded my rifle, working the bolt a time or two to prevent jamming.

Soon, I reached Primm. As I approached the overpass, an NCR soldier ran up and said, "Hey! What the hell are you doing here? Primm is off-limits!"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Off-limits? How come?"

"Some escaped convicts have holed up in the Bison Steve hotel-" The trooper gestured towards the building with the rollercoaster around it. "- and aren't letting go of it. We can't deal with the problem, so I think it'd be best if you kept going."

"Thanks for telling me."

"It's no issue. I have to return to my patrol." With that, the NCR soldier resumed his patrols. With a dejected sigh, I made my way under the overpass, and kept going down the road. I was struck by a flash of inspiration – what if I tried to singlehandedly tried to take down the convicts? I brushed the thought aside; seeing as I had just been shot, I'd be ripped apart by the convicts in seconds if I tried to attack. I hummed an old tune as I kept walked along the battered old road, dust eddying by.

_I've got heartaches by the number, troubles by the score; every day you love me less, each day I love you more..._

The song came softly through my Pip-Boy, filling my ears with pleasant song. I looked up and saw a hill with two statues atop it. I figured I'd stop there for the night – it had been near sunset by the time I made it to Primm – and I began the long climb up the hill. I made my way past a man in a NCR uniform, and he stopped me.

"You lost, son?"

"I'm not, sir. I'm just looking for a place to stay for the night before I move on."

"I'll radio in and ask Major Knight if you can stay in the barracks for the night. I'm sure there's an empty bed for you. Where you headed?"

"After tonight, I'm going to head to Vegas."

"Vegas, huh? I suggest you follow the road you came in on to Nipton, then cut to Novac from there. Once you get to Novac, it'll be a straight shot to Boulder City, and then you'll practically be at Vegas."

"Thanks so much, sir."

"It's my pleasure." We shook hands. "Say, son, what's your name?"

"Aesil. I'm a courier."

"Huh. You that courier that got shot in Goodsprings? Heard about you on the radio."

"I am, as unfortunate for me as it is."

"All of us up at the outpost have heard of you. I'm Seargeant Kilborn. You're one lucky S.O.B if you ask me."

"Ah...I don't know how to respond to that."

"I'm sure I wouldn't either if I had taken a slug to the brain, son. Now go on up to the barracks. I'll see you off tomorrow when you come by."

"Thank you, and goodnight."

"You take care," he said as I resumed trekking up the hill. I heard his voice say my name over the radio he had as I kept making my way up the hill, which was littered with old, broken cars and trucks.

_Blue moon, you saw me standing alone; without a dream in my heart...without a love of my own._

Soon, I reached the outpost. An NCR soldier ran up to me, and said. "You're Aesil, right?"

"I am."

"Come with me, please. Major Knight wants to see you." At once, he turned and made his way back to the outpost, and I followed him. We stepped past some sandbags and into a building, and we stood at attention in front of a desk. The man behind it – Major Knight – sighed.

"No need to do that. I've been told you've been looking for a place to stay for the night, Aesil."

"Yes, sir."

"You're welcome to stay in the barracks. Where are you planning to go after you stay?"

"I'll head to Novac then go to Vegas."

"Sounds solid enough. I see you're avoiding the way that's full of muties near Goodsprings. Not a big fan of those cazadores and Deathclaws, but regardless, we have to do something, right?" He shrugged, and added, "You're welcome to a drink if you have the caps at the barracks."

"I might get one, but it depends."

"You rest well, Aesil."

"You too, sir," I said, turning and leaving the office. I headed towards the barracks, and stepped inside. I sat at a stool at the bar, and paid the bartender – a girl named Lacey, didn't really look that good – for a bottle of whiskey. I popped off the top, and drank a little.

"Come here often?" A voice asked from near me. I looked over, and saw a rather nice-looking red-headed girl in a plaid shirt and jeans, complete with a hat on her head and rifle on her back.

"'Fraid not, I'm just staying for the night before I head out."

"Where to?"

"Vegas."

"Oh, that shithole?"

"Yeah. I assume you've heard?"

"About you getting popped in the head and somehow managing to stay alive long enough to get patched up? I'd say you're pretty lucky if you ask me. Not every day you take a bullet to the brain and live to talk about it."

"I'm surprised I made it through, as well."

"What's your name?"

"Aesil. And yours is...?"

"Cass."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said, holding out a hand. She shook firmly, and then she paid for a bottle of whiskey. "Guess we share the same tastes, hmm?"

"I guess we do. Hats off to the guy who made it past getting shot in the head," she said with a warm smile that threatened to melt me into a puddle of Aesil.

"Eh, hats off!" We tapped our bottles together and drank deeply. We sat there for a while, laughing and chatting, occasionally drinking. When my bottle was empty, I set mine down. Lacey took it and placed it under the bar, and I said, "I guess I'll get some sleep."

"So soon? Aww, and I was just starting to have fun!"

"Sorry, Cass," I said with a defeated smile, "but even couriers who hauled ass from the brink of death need sleep. I'll see you in the morning if you're still around."

"As I will be."

I made my way to the many bunk beds in the barracks, and chose one in the corner. I slept deeply that night.

-

In the morning, I awoke, and strode back to the bar. Surely enough, Cass was still sitting there, and she looked back at me. "Morning, Aesil," she said cheerfully.

"Morning to you, Cass." I sat down next to her and paid for another bottle of whiskey, and began to drink.

"You headed out today?"

"Yup. Gonna go to Nipton, go to Novac, then Boulder City, then Vegas. That's the plan, anyway."

"Sounds like fun."

"I'm going to...meet someone in Vegas."

"Someone special?"

"Guess you could say that, though it's romantic by no means."

"I see." We drank in silence for a while. I finished off my bottle and Lacey took it like she did the last one. I stood from the bar, and stepped out.

"See you around sometime, Cass."

"You take care now, Aesil."

I shut the door behind me and began the long trek down the hill. I heard a door slam in the distance, and I heard feet running behind me. The source of them was Cass, two bottles of whiskey in her hands. "Hey, Aesil! Mind if I come along? Forgot to ask back in the barracks."

"Aw, hell, why not."

She grinned at me. "I'm sure we'll do just fine getting to Vegas and finding whoever it is you're so desperately searching for!"

I looked ahead to the smoke that I saw near the place I assumed was Nipton, and I dwelled on it. I knew that it would be easy by no means...


	5. Chapter 4: Enter the Taker

Goodsprings. Usually, it was a tranquil town, with nothing to really do besides occasionally deal with some geckos trying to get a drink from the water supply. Every now and then, little dust eddies would swirl about parts of the town, and then vanish just as quickly as they had appeared. Bloatflies buzzed above the graves atop the Goodsprings Cemetery, and Bighorners grazed quietly at the thin grasses scattered here and there, oblivious to the doings of their human masters. Brown dirt and rocks made up the ground in this place. It was just so...quiet. Nothing would ever happen here since Aesil helped the townsfolk drive off the Powder Gangers...right?

Wrong. The Taker shook his head to clear that thought away as he slid on his Ranger helmet, pilfered from an NCR Ranger he had shot dead with his trusty rifle, Ratslayer. The green-bodied gun was fitted with a silencer, and had a night-vision scope on it, that shifted from a normal scope at day, to a greenish scope that could bear witness to the darkest corners at night. He called it Ratslayer because it helped him kill off those he deemed "rats," people unfit to even be noticed by him. If one was marked as a rat by the Taker, they were going to be eliminated, no ifs, ands, or buts. The Chinese Stealth Armor he wore was also a pilfered item, taken from a traveler from the East that he had shot dead as they passed him. He had, to his disappointment, found out that the invisibility function of the suit no longer worked, but, to his luck, he had found a group of dead Nightkin near a campsite, and raided the bodies for quite a few Stealth Boys.

He looked to the sky. The stars were out, and the moon hung high. It was time for him to claim some rats. He activated a Stealth Boy, and he smiled under the mask as he heard the little device activate, making him nearly invisible to the naked eye. He crouched, and pulled Ratslayer into his arms from over his shoulder. He cycled the bolt, chambering the first round of eight. He carefully tiptoed across the ground, the boots from his armor barely making a bit of noise as they touched and grazed softly past the rocky terrain underneath him. He looked around, searching for a strategic target that would get the town's attention. He decided right then and there – no human rats just yet. Make them worry where something important was when he wiped it out, and then when the time came, he would kill them methodically. His gaze settled on a small house with a trailer near it. Three Bighorners grazed a few feet away, oblivious to his presence across the town. He raised Ratslayer to his shoulder, and moved the center of the scope onto the hide of the nearest one.

_Ffft! _Ratslayer barely recoiled, but when he saw the Bighorner drop with a nasty-looking bullet wound in its side, he knew he had accomplished the first strike of many. He cycled the bolt, and fired again, this time taking one of the Bighorners in its eye, sending fragments of its head to scatter and bleed profusely amongst the dirt and rocks. He cycled. Another _ffft! _With that last shot, he placed the rifle back on his back and watched the last one of the targets fall dead, a gaping wound oozing blood from its chest. He smiled to himself, and slunk off, knowing he would have to change for the morning so then he wouldn't be a figure of great suspicion in the town...

-

"I told you, Sunny, something's not right here! Bighorners just don't...die...not so suddenly! It's not a something that's behind it, but it's a someone!" Trudy thumped her fist on the bar as the notable citizens of Goodsprings sat on stools, watching her. Easy Pete watched nervously, the cob pipe in his lips just barely smoking. Ringo sat next to him, glasses occasionally glaring with the light from the dim lamps. Next to him was Sunny Smiles, who was discussing the manner with Trudy. Finally, to Trudy's left sat Doc Mitchell, the one who had helped Aesil, the courier who had helped Goodsprings get rid of the Powder Ganger threat to them, and his eyes were clouded with worry.

"C'mon, Trudy, we have to hunt this someone down..."

"We can't just send people out to their deaths, Sunny." The protective side Sunny Smiles never liked to see was shining through, and it made her nervous. "First, it was Bighorners. It might be any of us next. We have to be utterly careful! We MUST think this through!"

"I looked at the wounds on the Bighorners earlier today," Doc Mitchell said, "and it looked to me like they was all done by 5.56 millimeter bullets. I think we may be having someone using a varmint rifle or something."

"I wouldn't think so; a rifle like that? It'd wake everyone up due to the sound of the shots. No one woke up though, and I'd think our guy was using a suppressed rifle," Sunny remarked.

"He most likely was. Seeing as the bodies were discovered in the morning," Trudy pondered, "I'd assume he struck last night. Our mystery murderer doesn't play around, people. We need to find him quick before anyone dies. That'll be all," she said, watching everyone as they got up from their stools and exited the bar. She sighed and began to scrub the bar. The door near her opened, and a man in a fancy suit strolled up to her, and sat down at one of the stools.

"How many caps for some whiskey, if I may ask?"

"27. You getting just one bottle or...?"

"One will be all, thank you." Trudy handed the man a bottle of whiskey, and he passed her a small bag containing precisely 27 caps. He uncorked the battle and took a small drag of it. "Anything interesting happening in town lately?"

"Someone shot a few Bighorners last night, and we're worrying that whoever did it might come for one of us next."

"That's a real shame, I mean, who would go about killing Bighorners?"

"Whoever did it was obviously trying to get us worked up. Kinda sad, though. You staying around a bit? The last guy who came through here certainly didn't. We ended up fighting off some Powder Gangers alongside him. Guy was named Aesil, a courier. He'd been shot and somehow survived, but I guess the credit goes to Doc Mitchell."

"Huh, that's interesting." The man took another drag, and now the bottle was a quarter of the way empty. "A bit worrying that your Bighorners are dying. I hope you all catch the one who's doing this."

"I'm sure we will," Trudy said as she turned away, the man took a swig this time. "I'm sure we will."

"Y'mind if I take this with me?"

"Oh, certainly. You seem like a good man."

"Thank you. I'll be seeing you around, I hope."

"You take it easy, now." She watched the man as he walked out, whiskey in hand. The suit looked a bit out of place in such a rural area, but she shrugged it off.

-

Night fell, and so did the whiskey bottle that the Taker had gotten that afternoon. He set it behind a rock, and went behind the house of the man called Doc Mitchell. He pulled the suit off, revealing the stealth armor underneath it. and sucked it into the Pip-Boy on his wrist. He took off his hat and placed the Ranger helmet over his face, screwing on bits and pieces. The eyes flared a bit, and then died down to their un-tinted form. He pulled Ratslayer from over his shoulder, and peeked out from behind the house. Trudy and Ringo were walking about, looking around. Both of them had rifles, and they had no lights of any sort. Perfect for a takedown. The Taker activated a Stealth Boy, and crept towards the rock he had set the whiskey bottle behind. He raised Ratslayer to his eye, and focused on Ringo. 'Steady,' he thought, 'steady...'

_Ffft! _Ringo dropped dead, a hole through his forehead, and Trudy stumbled away from the now-dead man, gasping in horror. "Shit," she murmured, "he found us. Our Bighorner killer found us..." She began to run away, and with another _ffft, _the Taker sent her stumbling with a bullet in the small of her back. She fell to the ground, writhing and trying to crawl, leaving blood behind her. The Taker walked over to her, over the rocks and dust. He knelt next to her, and briefly deactivated the Stealth Boy. "So," Trudy gasped, "you're the one who killed the Bighorners and Ringo..."

"I told you, ma'am. I told you I'd be seeing you around. Except, you're a rat in my eyes. My gun, Ratslayer, is made to kill rats like you, Ringo, and those Bighorners." He leveled the rifle with her eye. "I'm not going to show you mercy, rat. Meet your fate by the bullet." _Ffft! _Trudy slumped, the right side of her face now a bloody mess, eyeball rolling away as blood began to pool under her head. The Taker stood and reactivated his Stealth Boy, moving back towards Doc Mitchell's house. No mercy for rats, none at all.

-

Doc Mitchell was sitting in his chair, staring out the window. He wondered if Trudy and Ringo had caught the Bighorner murderer yet. His interest was piqued when he heard his door open and shut. "Huh," he murmured, "must be Trudy in to tell me how things went. I hope she isn't hurt none." He continued to sit – his biggest mistake. The Taker crept to the room adjacent of the living room that Doc Mitchell was in. He raised Ratslayer, and focused the center of the scope onto the old man's head. Instead of choosing to fire at the head, the Taker lowered the scope a little and fired into Doc Mitchell's chest instead. The man gasped in pain and grabbed at his chest, life ebbing away as the blood waterfalled down the front of his farm-hand suit. "No...He found us...May...God help us all..." With that, Doc Mitchell slumped back and died, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

The Taker exited the house, and leveled Ratslayer with a shack far away. There stood the robot Victor, facing towards the shack. _Ffft! _The shot hit the robot in the back, sending sparks flying as the dead robot fell forwards, crashing against the shack, and then tumbling to the side. The screen that had held his face was broken by the bullet that had torn through it, leaving a glassy, shattered mess that once held the cheerful face that had greeted the courier Aesil with the words, "Howdy pardner!" The Taker reloaded Ratslayer, and readied for his next kill.

The Taker swiveled his rifle and saw an old man with a cob pipe in his mouth kneeling over the body of Trudy. Easy Pete saw the Taker, and readied his dynamite. However, the Taker planted a bullet through Easy Pete's arm, tearing it open and making him drop his explosive. The stick of TNT exploded at his feet, tearing away everything below his right knee and badly mangling his left ankle. Easy Pete fell to the ground, clutching at the ragged stump that had once supported his right foot. Another shot, and his eyes rolled up as the bullet impacted with his chest, finishing him off and sparing him agony. The Taker walked over to Easy Pete's body, and grabbed a single stick of dynamite from his coveralls.

The Taker stepped into the general store, and looked through the door that led to Chet's room. He could see the semblance of a head laying there, sleeping. The Taker took Ratslayer and lit the dynamite via a shot aimed directly at the tip of the fuse, and threw it into the doorway. The explosion tore apart Chet, killing him in his sleep. "He never knew what hit him, the dumb rat," the Taker mused.

He stepped outside the store to see a rifle leveled at his chest, and he subconsciously realized his Stealth Boy had worn off. "Hold it," said Sunny Smiles, glaring at the Taker.

"A shame I'll have to kill you, little miss."

"Little miss? I'll show you little, you murderer. You killed Trudy, Ringo, and Easy Pete! I can't let you get away with that!"

"Who says you can stop me?"

"I do. Get 'im, Cheyenne!" The dog barked and bounded towards the Taker. However, the Taker was ready, as he grabbed the dog as it leapt. He broke its neck with a quick twist of the arm, and threw it at Sunny's head. The girl went stumbling backwards as her dead canine companion hit the ground near her feet. She tripped over Cheyenne's body and landed on her rump, staring horrifiedly at the Taker as he raised Ratslayer. "Eat it and die, rat." _Ffft!_ Sunny Smiles fell backwards, staring blankly at the sky next to the now-dead Cheyenne as her life ebbed away from her. The Taker, satisfied with what he had done, put Ratslayer away. 12 shots had decimated Goodsprings. He was going to hunt Aesil down and personally kill him.

"I am the Taker, rats," he whispered to the wind. "I mark you, and I ensure you die."


End file.
